


An Attempt at Domestication

by rubberduckiejr



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-10
Updated: 2013-10-10
Packaged: 2017-12-29 00:46:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/998860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubberduckiejr/pseuds/rubberduckiejr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos tries to make Cecil dinner. It doesn’t go well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Attempt at Domestication

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prompt from my friend, Robot. I apologize in advance.

“What’s burning?” Cecil asked from the kitchen table, his tattooed arms crossed over each other in an attempt to remain comfortable after sitting there for a good two hours. He had a blindfold over his eyes, but he had to vow to keep his third eye closed since whenever they tried to cover it would disappear into an abyss in the end endless void.

“Nothing’s burning,” Carlos promised, but his voice was drowned out by the sounds of clanging metal and depressed children. “It’s supposed to be on fire.”

“You know, the city council has a ban on flammable objects,” Cecil pointed out and leaned back into the chair and placing his arms behind his head, his tentacles idly fighting each other to fight the boredom.

“What about objects that aren’t normally flammable?” Carlos asked. Another clang. Another crash. And the fire alarm went off—a high pitched wailing much like that of a siren. It was over in five seconds, and turned into Mozart’s “Magic Flute.”

“I am not sure. You might need to send in a question request form to get the question form and wait four to six weeks to not get a reply.”

“I’ll get right on that,” Carlos promised. Cecil noticed a bright light pouring through the blindfold. He wasn’t sure if it was the blindfold that was purple or if it was the light that Carlos somehow created that was purple.

“Okay, you can open your eyes,” Carlos said. Cecil carefully removed his blindfold. It was grey. He looked up to see Perfect Carlos, bright eyed and beaming above a pan full of what looked like green charcoal full of gold and silver sprinkles and was moving in a lifeless manor.

“It’s tamales,” Carlos crowed. “It’s my ma’s recipe. Well, kind of my ma’s recipe. I sort of experimented with it a bit. Since I couldn’t use tortillas due to the ban of wheat and wheat by-product, I used rice wonton wraps and instead of beef, I used false-beef that was created in the lab. It’s vegetarian!”

They watched as the “tamales” began to morph, releasing a nauseous orange gas with a grand display of mauve sparks. Slowly, they began to rise out of the pan and began to hum obnoxiously. In a flash, they tried to fly out of the closed window, spreading its grotesque contents all over the pane.

Cecil smiled broadly, reaching over to grab Carlos’s hand. “Why don’t we just go get dollar tacos from Jerry’s tacos?”

When they got back from dinner, the “tamale” were gone, leaving a plaid spot on the window.


End file.
